Rise of the Wildcat
by Angel of Pandemonium
Summary: Hamish thought he had seen it all- but this was completely bizarre. No one had known that The Bear witch had a name let alone a family. Certantly not a neice as stunning as this girl... Dierdre Campbell was running from a fate worse than death, but what was that fate? and Who was she, really? And why did it seem as if she was a royal instead of a witch's apprentice?
1. Prologue

_**Alright, everyone… This is my first Brave story. I've been working on it for a while, playing with the idea in my head. Hope you all like it.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original characters of the motion picture, nor do I own anyone but the Campbells, the Englishmen, or any other character from the lowlands. All other OC's belong to **_**Trivial Queen **

_**Now that that's cleared up, on with the story.**_

_Prologue_

_It was Fergus Dunbroch- the Bear King- who ruled the Highlands of Scotland, with his fair Queen, Elinor by his side and their four children, Merida, Hamish, Hubert, and Harris._

_Everyone in Scotland had heard the tale of the royal family of the Highlands; how Merida, out of fear of marriage had gone to a witch to change her fate. They had heard how in doing so, Merida had obtained a spell that turned not only her mother, Queen Elinor, but her triplet brothers, the princes, Hamish, Hubert, and Harris into bears._

_They were told how the Queen, as a bear, had killed the dreaded Mor' Du and how, in repairing the tapestry woven by her mother, Merida had broken the spell on her mother and brothers._

_This is not a tale of Merida, no, though she once again plays a part. This is about another Scottish princess, and how she changed her own fate. This is the story of Princess Dierdre Campbell, the youngest of the Lowlands' royal family._

_For it is true that while Fergus Dunbroch, the Bear King, Ruled the Highlands of Scotland, The Lowlands of Scotland were ruled by another._

_He was Coll Campbell, the Wildcat King, and Dierdre was his daughter…_


	2. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one besides the Lowlanders and an Englishman. Everything else is either owned by Disney or the**_** Trivial Queen. **_**Now that that's covered, let' get on with it.**_

_Chapter 1_

Coll Campbell was a mountain of a man, his skin was like leather, and his hands were like steel. He ruled the Scottish Lowlands as Fergus ruled the Highlands. He was, like the redheaded king of bears, a large, brawny man, though his hair was as black as midnight and his eyes were as green as the pine trees. He was fiercely loyal and unswervingly kind to his people. Thrice had he protected his homelands from invading _dragoons_ (1) and Romans.

Twice he had fought off a Spanish Armada (2), and many times, he had disposed of the Viking's threats of war.

But he had not managed this alone. It was said that his wife was one of the gifted.

And it was true. His queen, whose name was Rewina, fought just as hard for her people as her husband ever had. It was she who made certain that her people's farms and livestock were safe; it was she who protected the daughters of the Scottish Lowlands from harm of invaders.

For she _was _a witch; and the protective spells that she cast were unbreakable to the mages and magicians of foreign lands.

She was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter (3), and that alone made her powerful. Her mother before her was a seventh of a seventh, as well as her mother's mother, and two generations before her.

She was as powerful as she was beautiful. Small, like a fairy, she stood at maybe five feet tall- easily dwarfed by her large, brawly husband- she had a small, willowy figure, and skin as pale as winter's snow. Her large, blue- violet eyes were framed by thick, sooty lashes, set on either side of a straight, thin aristocratic nose. Her lips were red as a rose, and her angular face was framed by a water fall of deep, dark umber colored hair with red undertones that fell past her hips.

She also had a secret beyond that of being a witch…

She could see another's fate.

She had seen her youngest daughter's fate before she was born.

When she first married the king, Coll feared that he would break her if he wasn't careful. He was after all, a good two feet taller than her, and his queen looked like a tiny china doll in comparison.

And yet, in years to come and nine children later, Coll would find that his bride would not break easily- if at all. She was clever, quick and very, _very_ shrewd. She was stubborn as a stone, yet as soft as a goose feather pillow.

She'd given him two sons and seven daughters, all born within two to three years of each other.

The eldest two were Derek and Daniel. Born within a year of each other, Derek was the eldest at the age of twenty- five, and was truly his father's son, yet had inherited his mother's slow temper and her deep, umber colored hair. He had received his father's larger-than-life build and eyes. He was to take the throne next, with his wife, Shea by his side, as well as his three children.

The second eldest was Daniel. He had his father's height, but an almost lanky build. At a year younger than Derek, Daniel took after their mother. Quick and clever, he was the most sought after strategist in Scotland. HE had his father's black hair and his mother's angular face. His eyes were as blue as a highland lock. He lived on the edge of the lowlands with his wife, Natalya, a runaway Roman slave (4), and their five children.

After Daniel were the triplets at twenty- two years of age; Andrea, Agnes, and Arainia- Drea, Nessa, and Rain, to most. Growing up, they had been nearly impossible to control, constantly wrecking havoc wherever they could. They took their father's raven hair and deep green eyes, though they took their mother's pallid complexion. They were tall, though, with willowy figures that made a fool out of every man who saw them, save their husbands, Avery, Patrick, and Sean O'Connell. And between them, the three pairs had twelve children.

Brenna was twenty, and the sixth eldest. She shared her sisters' height, though she had a more voluptuous figure. She was a calm, quiet woman with a heart of gold. She had met her husband, Cameron Ross when she was eighteen and now had two children of her own. She had a natural way with children, and was known for watching over her siblings' broods while watching over her own two children with the eyes of a hawk.

And then came the twins, Schuyler and Rhianon- at age nineteen, could have given King Fergus's triplets a run for their money in trouble. Now, though, both were married- Schuyler to an Irishman named Erick Cameron and Rhianon to a highlander- Ian Macintosh, and both had twins of their own. They acted, for the most part, as the dignified wives and mothers that they were.

But it was not the triplets, or even the twins that worried Coll Campbell the most…

No, it was his youngest; his baby girl- the seventh daughter, his Dierdre. Perhaps the only of his daughters to take after their mother more than him; from her pixie-like build to her angular face, straight nose and large, heavily lashed eyes- though hers were violet; silver rimmed the pupil of her eye and changed to the color of lilacs and then a darker color rimming the irises. Her eyes were known to turn to cold amethyst when angered or warmed to silver when she was upset. Her skin was a mix though; taking on an almost golden glow in the sun and warm seasons, and turning to an almost silvery hue when it came to be night or the cold seasons.

Dierdre seemed to be the quietest of Coll and Rewina's children, usually seen with a book in her hands, yet, she wasn't. Only her parents and siblings shared that truth.

She had a temper as quick as her mind- which she had inherited from her mother, as shrewd and quick as the wildcat that roamed the country(5). She was the most dangerous of all.

Like her mother before her she was a witch.

Her mother had taught her everything she knew, and Dierdre had learned it well.

It was her brothers and father, though, who taught her to fight. By the time she was fifteen, she could beat both Derek and Daniel in hand to hand combat- as well as close combat with blades. Blades were Dierdre's forte, and like the Princess Merida, she preferred projectiles. She had a good arm and had never missed a target equal to or less than fifty feet away.

Like Fergus, Coll thought that learning to fight was essential. He supported it, even taught Dierdre how to use a sword, how to string and shoot a bow, and how to wield an ax. No, it was not his daughter's combat skills that worried him…

It was her age.

Dierdre was seventeen; old enough for marriage.

It wasn't as if Dierdre didn't have suitors, no. Coll smiled waspishly. If only she didn't. His sprite- like daughter (6) had many; more so than any of her sisters. She was beautiful, mysterious, and seemed untouchable.

But she was gifted. And therein lay the problem. He had accepted, long ago that his daughter and wife were powerful. But he did not use it, did not take advantage, like others would.

He did not want that for his daughter.

HIS wife had seen Dierdre's fate twice, once on the day she met Coll, the second when she was pregnant with the _bairn_ (7).

She had seen two possible fates for their daughter. Neither of which Coll liked.

The first was a marriage, here, to the most persistent of her swains- and then death. Death because of her powers.

Coll would be damned if that were to happen. He would kill the bloody bastard before he could even _touch _his baby girl… and that would be soon.

He scowled.

"Love, ye're forgettin' the lass' second fate." Rewina murmured, laying a hand on her husband's tensed arm.

IF anything, the reminder had served to deepen the scowl on the king's face.

Their second option was to send Dierdre to Rewina's four times great aunt, the first witch in the family, who lived in the highlands- in the Dunbroch forest.

He rolled his eyes. His wife's aunt was the woman who had singlehandedly nearly brought about despair to the highland's king by turning the man's _wife_ into a bear. As well as turning a man into a beast of the same nature to terrorize the highlands- Mor'Du.

And _this_ was where he was going to send his youngest daughter.

Lovely.

He heaved a groan and put his giant hand on his face.

"Rewina, love, ye should go help her prepare. She needs to know the why and where of it."

His tiny wife smiled at him. "of course, _M'Fluhedil (8)"_ she rose

"Oy, you there!" he shouted to one of his guards.

"Aye, sir?"

"GO and find my sons. And then have everyone but them clear out."

The man nodded and ran.

Minutes later the great throne room had no one but the king and his two sons in it. All three men had grim looks on their faces.

It was Derek who spoke first. "Aye, Father?"

"Those throwing knives that the two of ye are makin' fer Dierdre, when will they be ready?" He watched as his sons smirked, and then watched as they withdrew no less than thirty knives.

Stilettos, Throwing knives, dirks (9), and long sharp metallic needles- used for throwing as well. All expertly made, all of which no sane man went near unless he knew how to use them.

And his daughter knew how to wield them like a master, and did so. She could enchant them as well. Coll nodded to his boys.

"Good, she's going to need them."

The boys nodded.

"Father, maybe we should go with her?"

Coll shook his head. "Nay, yer mother saw her leavin' alone, and yer wives would have my head. Besides, I need you here, to hold off that goddamned Dragoon."

Coll watched as his sons both hissed. "That one'll get his hands on our sister only when _hell freezes over_." Daniel snarled.

Coll had never seen the two so angered by one man.

"That's something everyone in this castle agrees on. Go get yer sisters in on it. All of them."

Nearly identical maniacal smirks spread across Derek and Daniel's faces.

Coll shuddered. Those smirks were slightly mad.

Rewina climbed the stairs to her daughter's room and opened the door.

She had already told the girl what was going on, and what was going to happen. Dierdre had nodded and started packing. Her dress was a deep emerald color, large, bagged sleeves to her wrists until the leather throngs began- bettering the grip she had on her weapons.

Her long, deep umber hair was tied back with a velvet band, the ponytail hung nearly to her knees. Dierdre's violet orbs latched onto her mother's own blue-violet gaze. The silver in her daughter's gaze startled many.

"Mom, how will I know I'm going the right way?"

Rewina smiled, tears in her eyes.

"The wisps will show ye." She said. "They'll keep ye safe, love, and show ye how to get to yer aunt Miranda."

Dierdre ran to her mother and threw her arms around her.

"Momma, I'm scared. What if Nigel comes after me?"

Rewina heard the door open and knew it was her sons.

"We'll be keepin' the dragoon busy, Ray. " Derek said quietly, patting his sister's head.

"Dad told us- and the girls- to keep him busy for a few days. But if that doesn't work, we made ye some new weapons." Daniel handed the girl the knives he and Derek had slaved over for months.

Eyes damp with tears, she embraced her brothers.

"Thank ye." She whispered.

"I'll go and saddle yer horse little sister." Derek kissed her head

IT was time. Nigel and his group had fallen asleep in a drunken stupor.

It was Rain who came to fetch Dierdre.

"Ray, it's time. Let's get going."

Dierdre put on her cloak and snapped her fingers. Her bags disappeared. Rain looked at her in stunned disbelief, green eyes wide.

"On Cullum," was the only explanation. Rain shook her head and said nothing.

It was she who watched as her sister mounted the horse, and turned to her.

"Mother said to tell ye to head to the forest. She said ye'll see a wisp when ye get there." Rain directed her. Then she sighed. "As fer Dad, he says he loves ye, and Derek and Daniel say to grease those knives, or they'll rust. Nessa, Drea, and Bren say to be careful, and Dierdre,"

She waited until those violet eyes turned to her. Rain took a deep breath.

"_DO NOT STOP_, whatever ye do, _do not stop until ye reach the forest._ Take care until ye reach Aunt Miranda's cottage. I may not have yer powers, but I do have a small bit of precognition. He'll come after ye. And… I love ye. Be safe, little Ray."

Dierdre smiled sadly, and then turned to face the castle gate.

Rain stared after her little sister. She wanted to scream. Instead, she looked at the night sky- a sky filled with stars, and whispered a prayer.

"_Daor__d__agda__, __a choinneáil ar ár__moonbeam__beag__sábháilte_." (10)

She wanted retribution on Nigel Wellington- that damned dragoon… because of him, she may never see her baby sister, her ray of sunshine, her moonbeam again…

_So begins the tale of Dierdre, daughter of the Wildcat King, Coll Campbell and his Queen Rewina._

_**All right let's get started**_

_**Dragoon- English invader for you who didn't know.**_

_**Spanish Armada- basically this is the Spanish Fleet, the Royal Navy**_

_**The seventh of the seventh is a bit of mythology, basically, the seventh of the seventh was supposed to have the power to see spirits and other things, but in this, the seventh of the seventh is a witch.**_

_**For all who didn't know, Romans made slaves of the Greeks, Egyptians, and the indigenous peoples of the lands that they took over… in Derek's wife's case, she's a Greek woman.**_

_**A now endangered species in Scotland, these cats look like housecats, but are un-trainable and in some cases very vicious. Look them up they're gorgeous.**_

_**Sprites: Elf like creatures- refers to Dierdre's size.**_

**Bairn**_**: Scottish term for baby**_

**M'Fluhedil:**_** old Celtic, it means my beloved**_

_**Dirks are Scottish daggers. Dierdre's weapon of choice**_

_**So says Google, it's Celtic for "Dear Dagda, keep our little moonbeam safe." **_

_**For the record, this may be one of the longer chapters… I don't know. I guess that**_** Trivial Queen **_**is helping me a bit with this seeing as I am using the characters from her story: **_**A Merry War**_**. What can I say, great minds think alike. I don't know how often I'll be updating this, but it will be updated as often as possible. I may change the name, though…**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello, there, my fellow Brave fans. This is Angel of Pandemonium again… again… well, I've been doing more research on the next story of this series- which, while I'm sure those of you who are reading this may be a bit exited, will not begin until AFTER this story is finished- though if you ask I might give you a sneak preview in future chapters… give me the word and it will be so. ON with the story !**_

_Chapter 2_

_Castle Dunbroch_

Queen Elinor Dunbroch tugged on a lock of her long, greying chestnut hair in growing aggravation as she paced the room, closely watched by the other ladies in the room; all of whom smiled with amusement at the queen's worries.

It was her daughter, Mirida MacGuffin who spoke first, her smile coming out both on her face and in her voice. "Mamma, they're going to be _fine_. 'Tain't as if this is their first games. They are eighteen, after all," She leaned back and patted her large belly lovingly.

It was Dougal Makintosh's bride, Rosalyn Brolchain Macintosh who spoke next.

"Merida, it's everyone _else_ that yer mother worries for. I've yet to see anyone best Hubert at brawling- besides his brothers, of course. I've yet to hear of someone who can out do Harris in throwing cabers, and no one, not even my Dougal, can come _close_ to defeating Hamish with a sword." She grinned at her mother in law with no apology. Lady Calleigh Macintosh rolled her eyes and tiny little Bonny Dingwald giggled.

Elinor smiled as well, though her smile was dry.

"Grandmother, my uncles haven't lost at the games since they turned eighteen…" Little Elinor- as she was called by all- said

The queen laughed as her granddaughter said this, and looked at the young girl. She had hair as wild as her mother's- a legacy that would apparently be passed to all of her children and grandchildren.

"Actually, I was thinking of how time flies. My daughter has four going on five bairns of her own, and my sons have grown from the troublemaking little devils that they used to be into three of the finest men in Scotland. The mother in me is screaming in rejection of it all."

"Aye, it seems only yesterday that I turned ye and the boys into bears because I didn't want to marry." Merida drawled her voice as dry as the sands near a lock.

The others, including the queen laughed. "Aye, and now, we go to that witch for all sorts of spells and carvings." Elinor piqued. The women all looked dup as someone- or rather _three_ some ones opened the door and came into the room. Queen Elinor smiled then, as she eyed her sons, suspicion born from years of their tricks sharpening her dark eyes to flint.

All of her boys had inherited their father's sparkling blue eyes, untaimably curly red hair, and- though they did not inherit Fergus's sheer size- they had inherited his height. They were fit as their father, though without his bulging muscle, they were wirier.

Only Hamish- the middle triplet carried a weapon. A sword hung at his side in its scabbard.

All of her boys were handsome, none of them had to go far to find a willing lass- a thought that the queen tried hard to overlook. All three had gotten their father's quick grin and infectious, loud laugh; as well as enough arrogance to fill Scotland to the brim.

Hamish had always been the ringleader of the trio, and the one who had given Elinor a majority of her grey hair- though Merida, Hubert, and Harris had all contributed quite a bit.

As if he had read his mother's mind, a quick smile came to Hamish's face as he looked at his niece, sister and mother. "Hullo, Mom." He murmured, and kissed Elinor's cheek.

"Hamish Jonathan Dunbroch, what mischief have ye gotten yerself into_ this _time, young man?" her voice was a whip, sharp and quick.

His brothers grinned, Harris laughed, and Hubert rolled his vibrant blue eyes. Hamish gasped theatrically, and grasped at his heart.

"_Mother,_ I'm hurt. What would make ye think that_ I _did _anything_?" he asked, his own blue eyes earnest

"Because ye always get yerself into mischief, Hamish Dunbroch." Elinor drawled her voice dry.

Hamish held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "I only came to tell Merida that her laddy- love is being smothered by three red- headed savages."

Merida laughed. "Gregor can handle it." She snickered.

Hamish shrugged as he and the two others left the giggling women.

"Well lads, what now?" Harris wondered idly, examining his hand. The three had already pulverized any and all competition in the games and were now bored out of their minds.

"I'll go tell our brother in law what our sister- and his _loving_ wife said." Hubert smirked

"Eh, I have nothing better to do… I'll go with ye." Harris laughed.

Hamish grinned. "I'm going on a ride, lads, see ye later."

Hubert and Harris shrugged. Hamish had always been the most restless of them; it wasn't really a surprise to them that he wanted to get out of the castle. Harris was convinced that he had a serious case of claustrophobia.

Hamish saddled his stallion, a pitch- black beast who took his name after the dreaded bear that had terrorized the highlands since he was five, and had taken his father's leg.

"C'mon, Mor' Du. Let's go." Hamish murmured, climbing onto the stallion.

It was at the edge of the forest when Hamish saw it. A small blue light had appeared where the trees began.

"Now, that's interesting…" Hamish muttered to himself. "Haven't seen one of those since Merida turned us into bears…"

He dismounted the horse. "I'll see ye later, Mor' Du, I won't be long… I just want to see what the wisps want me to see."

The horse snorted, and Hamish grinned.

"Well," he muttered, walking towards the little glimmer, "they say a wisp leads ye to yer fate…" Shrugging to himself, he walked forward.

"I wonder what my fate is…"

She'd stopped to let Cullum drink from the small stream in the forest.

It had been two days since they had stopped, let alone sat down to eat or drink. And, seeing as the animal was going without, Deirdre had figured that she could bear as well.

It had been two days since either the animal or the girl had rested for any amount of time. She'd done what Rain had told her to do; she hadn't slowed down since she left the castle gates, not until she had reached the highland woods.

She still had another day of riding ahead of her, but she was just so tired.

She'd started a fire the way her mother had shown her- which was by gathering small twigs, and thinking of setting them on fire (apparently, the thoughts of a witch came to be without the use of spells).

She had just started relaxing when she'd seen something in the trees- or rather someone… she'd sat up to get a better look at whatever was lurking in the forest across her little clearing. Not that she could see all that well, it was dark and the only light was from her fire.

The flickering light did not reveal much, and the stranger was covered by the flora of the woods. All she could make out was his face- and only a portion of that with her fire.

His skin was like her father's- weathered, tanned though this man was freckled. She nearly giggled at this. His hair was as red as her fire, and the haphazard curls gave it a perpetually messy look. Then she saw his eyes…

Her heart gave an odd and downright confusing stutter as her violet gaze fell to his eyes.

They were as deep blue as a highland lock; slivers of silver circled the pupils of his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

'Michey me, his eyes were gorgeous…' she thought, and belatedly realized that she had never before reacted to a man like she had reacted to _this_ man.

She lay a hand on her heart in puzzlement, her lavender eyes wide with confusion.

Her full lips parted slightly, as her hand fell limply to her side.

"Dear Dagda… what _was_ that?" she hissed, angered at her own reaction- _to a man that she didn't even know_.

She shook her head to clear it. It wasn't like her to be acting this way… toward a man. A man that she would likely never see again, anyway…

…Not that she'd actually _seen_ him all that well in the first place.

She shrugged it off and curled up to sleep.

Hamish made it back to the castle around sunset. He wandered into the kitchen after he had taken the saddle off of Mor' Du and grabbed a pastry (his love of the deserts had never faded, in fact, the opposite had seemed to happen and his love to the little cakes had grown to insatiability.)

As he walked by, he smiled roguishly at the new maid who now helped Maudie in the kitchen- a pretty lass who was within a year of his own age and had pretty blue eyes, and wavy blond hair that fell to her waist. Her skin was as pale as new cream and her cheeks seemed to be stained pink.

Hours before, he would have flirted his way into her pretty little heart… yet, for some reason that remained a mystery to him, he did not feel the urge to do so. In fact he didn't _want_ to.

Hamish frowned as he bit into his pastry. This had never happened- well, hadn't happened since he had turned twelve, anyway. Not ever.

Actually- if he had been completely honest with himself- he would admit that he couldn't because of her- the mysterious girl in the woods.

All he could see were her impossibly wide, oddly colored eyes…

So lost in his own thoughts was the redheaded prince that he didn't notice Dougal Macintosh before he walked headlong into him.

"Oy, Hamish… or Hubert… or whichever one ye are, watch where yer goin'." He grumbled in annoyance.

"Aw, yer jest annoyed that I won _again_, Dougal." Hamish drawled, a self- satisfied smirk playing on his lips at the harassed look on the older man's face.

"Ah, Hamish, then," Dougal drawled back, a smirk that his wife would've called arrogant playing on his own face. "Ye only won because of that annoying little prank you pulled to get me into it with Rosalyn, for one, and yer mother's looking for ye."

Hamish raised an eyebrow. "Tch, in yer dreams, Dougal," he sneered at the laird, "And if me mam's lookin' fer me, then we'd better get goin'. It wouldn't do for us to make the Queen wait."

Dougal chuckled. "Ye're only saying that because the last time ye were late, she let ye have it."

Hamish rolled his blue eyes and groaned "Aye, she went on fer hours… I felt as if my ears would fall off."

Dougal chuckled at the moaning prince, as the two of them went to go find the Queen.

It had been three days since she'd seen the strange man by the light of her fire.

Three days, and still she could not keep those bright blue eyes out of her mind. She had not even seen the whole of his face, and yet…

And yet.

She sighed as she finished sweeping all of the wood chips out of Miranda's carving shop. She put the broom away and stepped out of the cottage's doorway to snap her fingers.

When she stepped inside the cottage again, it was her aunt's workshop. She gazed in wonder of all of the enchantments and spells that her aunt used.

Miranda- though she was a minor witch, knew many spells that while she herself could not preform, she had written down. Deirdre found that she had no trouble at all conjuring up the seemingly difficult spells and incarnations that Miranda could not.

Miranda's lessons had also taught her a great deal about her own lineage that the violet eyed witch did not know.

Miranda had told her that while she herself was a minor witch- being the first seventh of a seventh, Deirdre, who'd had four generations before her, was not. The old crone had also told her that her sister- whose name was Brenna, had also been one of the gifted. But, while Miranda had an affinity to bears, the first Brenna (as Deirdre referred to her as- her own elder sister had been named after the woman) had a connection to her namesake- Ravens.

As it turned out, though, the first Brenna could only turn into and communicate with the black, winged creature. She couldn't do any more than that.

"All of the gifted have an affinity with something in nature," Miranda had told her, "For example; there is a witch who lives farther north… I believe that her name is Aimsir Tèarmannair, who has a connection to the weather. She apparently was so angered by a member of the Brolchain clan that she set a weather curse on him and his clansmen. Her connection to the weather is so strong that her curse has not yet gone away… even now, the clan Brolchain is cursed."

Deirdre had taken this information with eyes as wide as saucers. "Do… do ye know anyone from the Brolchain clan, aunt Miranda?" she asked, brimming with curiosity.

Miranda chuckled. "Not well, but aye. In fact, yer bother in law, Ian's clan leader's son is married to a lass of the Brolchain lineage. Met the lass once, as well, lovely young lady, she was, and a good friend of princess Merida."

"What's he name, auntie?"

"Rosalyn. Now, enough questions, Deirdre, and pay attention." Miranda sighed, now, thinking that if she was to get back to the lesson at hand, she would have to stop the questions.

"Just one more, Miranda?" the girl begged.

"All right, but be quick about it."

"What weather does Rosalyn's curse bring?" Deirdre asked

Miranda raised an eyebrow, effectively making her wrinkled face look even older. "Blizzards, love, now, back to the _point_ of this; we need to find what ye've got an affinity to. Major witch though ye might be, a witch always works better with the spirit she's most in tune with."

"Like ye with the Queen and Mor' Du?" Deirdre drawled, her own eyebrow raised and her violet eyes sparkled as she tossed the remark at her aunt.

"Disrespectful young kit… Hush now, child." The older woman chastised, though a mischievous sparkle appeared in the old woman's glowing gold eyes.

Deirdre did as she was told and watched the old woman as she leaned over the cauldron in the middle of the room, muttering in the old language.

"Dear, I need blood."

Deirdre nodded and took her dirk from her belt. Holding the edge of the dagger that her brother had sharpened to an impossibly sharp point to her skin, she pricked her finger. Immediately, blood swelled from the small cut.

Miranda grabbed her cut finger and held it over the cauldron. Deirdre watched as the woman let three drops of her life blood trickle into the large pot.

"There, now. Step back, love." Her aunt told her.

"What's going to happen?"

"The spirit of the affinity you hold will appear. The spirits of nature have told me it's to be an animal." Miranda answered her niece with a soft whisper.

"When did they do that?" the girls tone was slightly hysterical.

"Three days ago, ten minutes before ye arrived, lass." Was the calm reply, then, "Hush, now, the spirits speak."

In the dark of the cottage, the vision glowed with a silver- blue hue. Deirdre watched as the apparition took a form, turning into a creature that walked on four legs.

It did not become clear what animal it was until the casting was standing two inches in front of the youngest of the lowland princesses.

It was the Scottish wildcat. Deirdre reached out to touch it in wonder.

The cat turned its head into her hand when she did.

She did not talk, for surely talking would have broken the wonderful spell that her aunt had cast. The normally vicious cat was behaving as if it was a housecat for her… but then, this wasn't the first time that a wild cat had done so.

It apperantly wouldn't be the last, either, if this was any indication. Deirdre smiled, happy for the first time since she had left home.

Sadly, though, the spell broke as a nock sounded at the door.

"Ah, that must be one of the princes to pick up that elixir that Queen Elinor asked for…" Miranda muttered.

"Deirdre, would ye get it for him, _Is breá_?"

Deirdre grinned. "Where is it?"

The old woman gestured distractedly to a shelf on the other side of the room. "On the shelf over there, sweet. Blue bottle, top shelf."

Deirdre sighed, as she crossed the room and came face to face with not one, but three different blue bottles- all of which had liquid in them.

"Which one, Auntie?" she asked, calmly.

"The middle one, dear. Pyramid shaped."

Deirdre grabbed the bottle in question and went to the door.

"Oh, and Deirdre? I want ye to go with the lad to the castle. Ye should introduce yerself to the king and queen since ye'll be helping me from now on."

It was with a look of absolute horror on her face that Deirdre opened the door.

Only to face a member of the highland's royal family- a young man with violently blue eyes and messy, curly red hair…

Nearly like the one Deirdre had seen by the light of her fire. Nearly, but not completely; the eyes she had seen were blue, that was true, but unlike this man's green flecked orbs, the other man's had silver imbedded in them. His had been a bit more like ice.

It was a difference that no one would really notice (she herself wondered _why_ and _how_ the _hell_ she noticed.) But it was a difference that was there, none the less.

"Hullo," She muttered, trying to sound calm, though the prospect of facing the entire highland court still had her paralyzed with fear.

"Err, who are ye?" the man asked, rudely.

He was tall, she noticed. Like her brother Daniel. Tall, but slim. With obvious muscle definition. More rope- like muscle.

"I'm Miranda's niece and apprentice, Deirdre Campbell. Who are you?" she replied in a rude tone, though, while his rudeness was out of surprise, she was lashing out. She didn't care.

He grinned, oozing arrogance enough to make her want to curse him. "Harris Dunbroch, milady. Prince of the highlands. I've never seen ye before. I've yet to forget a pretty face, and ye're as pretty as they come."

Deirdre resisted the urge to snort. Oh, dear Dagda, she wanted to. He was trying to charm her. She was about as charmed as a person who'd agitated a skunk and had gotten sprayed.

"I just moved from the lowlands, and save yer charm for someone who _wants_ it." She snapped. She was starting to feel ill at the prospect of having to go to Dunbroch castle.

She drew herself up to her full height- which was approximately a foot and an inch shorter than the man in front of her.

He pointedly looked down- which he had to do anyway. But now he did it to be annoying, as he studied her. He was awed, to say the least.

If he were about twelve years younger, he would have said that all witches were old and, well, ugly (little did he know, even now, that Miranda had once been known as the most beautiful woman in all of Scotland in her prime). But as he looked at this tiny little spitfire of a lass, who's deep, dark umber colored hair fell nearly to her knees, and whose face held the youth of someone who was within a year of his own age- or even as he looked at another witch whose name was Agnes Rose- he had started to rethink that.

Deirdre looked calmly at him, or at least outwardly calm… inwardly, she wanted to curse him within an inch of his life. "As Miranda's apprentice, she wants me to accompany ye back to yer castle to inform yer parents about me."

Harris inclined his head. "Well," he drawled, "Do ye have a horse?"

She looked at him as if he were an idiot. 'Well,' she thought, 'stupid questions should receive stupid answers…'

"No, I came to the highlands on foot. I find that it's much faster. Less time consuming, you know." Her voice dripped and oozed as much sarcasm as his did arrogance.

He winced. "Guess I deserved that. Well, then, love, ye need to saddle up so we can go."

She twitched and he snickered… oh, if he was getting this much of a rise out of her, Dagda only knew what _Hamish_ would do… her voice cracked like a whip.

"Do _not_ call me 'love'" she snarled. She then let out a whistle.

Cullum appeared seemingly out of thin air, his saddle strapped on and waiting for a rider. Deirdre looked to see the shock on Harris's face and rolled her eyes.

"I'm a _witch_, remember? I don't _have_ to put my saddle on by hand. All I have to do is snap my fingers."

Harris shook his red head as he mounted his own horse, and took off after her.

It took nearly an hour to reach Castle Dunbroch for the two of them, even on horseback, from Miranda's cottage. Then it took another ten minutes to reach the throne room. Harris walked past her to stand by his parents and siblings, and the other Scottish nobility.

"Mother, Father, this is Deirdre Campbell, apprentice to the bear witch, Miranda." He announced, then he turned to Deirdre.

"Miss Campbell, these are my parents, and my sister, Merida, her husband, Gregor MacGuffin, and my brothers Hamish and Hubert."

Deirdre rolled her eyes. "I figured, Harris… Majesties, here is the spell ye asked for." She walked up to the royal couple and held out the small blue bottle.

As she did, she calmly assessed the royal family. The princess Merida, with her bulging belly- who looked oddly like Brenna had when she was with child- Supported by her husband, a huge burly man who was nearly as big as the king.

Then, there were the King and Queen themselves- so like her own parents, yet so unlike them… King Fergus sat on Merida's other side, a mountain of a man who was just as tall, just as large as her own father, King Coll, his hair a brilliant red to match his children's own, and just as curly. His beard just as red and wild as the rest… his vibrant, shimmering blue eyes surrounded by what Deirdre was certain were laugh lines.

'Dear Dagda, he's as big as papa is…' She grinned as the thought came unbidden into her mind. She knew that if not anyone else (Mainly the annoyingly arrogant Harris- and more than likely his brothers), she would get along quite well with the huge red- haired Scotsman.

Sitting next to Fergus was the tall, beautiful, and elegant Queen Elinor. Her hair was a rich chesnut that was only enhanced by the silver strands- probably from her unruly children- her brown eyes calm, and alight with polite curiosity. So unlike her own mother… who was tiny and had a certain larger than life personality…

From the two royal couples, she moved on to Harris and his brothers- triplets apparently, all three looked nearly exactly alike- except maybe the looks on their faces. The second- Hubert , she guessed, his blue eyes held flecks of darker blue, and had a rather lazy grin on his face that exuded everything _but_ humility.

She turned slightly to the third brother- Hamish. He was the only one of the three who carried a weapon, the sword hung loosely at his side from his belt; and he, like his brothers, had gotten his father's height but a slimmer build- lanky rather that bulky, but still with obviously used muscle.

Deirdre looked into his eyes and froze. The gasp that came to her lips was so quiet that only she heard, and her lilac eyes widened. Had the queen not taken the bottle from her, Deirdre would have dropped the bottle and broken it as her hands started shaking as if she were cold.

Deirdre stared unblinkingly into a pair of bright blue eyes with silver flecks in them…

… The same eyes that she had seen by the light of her fire that night in the clearing…

_**Whew, that took a long time… it was fun though… and tiring… oh, uh, Brenna does in fact mean Raven, and In case you didn't already guess, this is a Hamish/O.C story… Harris's story comes next, after this one, and this is about how long I can make chapters… it's difficult to write more than ten pages on Microsoft word…. It really is. Sorry for the cliff hanger (okay, not really…)XD see you lot next time, and PLEASE, PLEASE review…. It sorta helps with the whole writing process… you know, like wanting to write it? Bye bye.**_


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